“It’s Thursday.”
“I know, but it’d be fun.”
“It’s Thursday.”
“What is your point?” She taps yellow-and-blue nails on my desk.
“I have several. Homework. Dad. Grounded. Dad. Thursday. Dad.”
“So sneak out.”
“Are you listening to yourself?”
“I am, and I think you don’t want to have any fun.”
“You take anything else with those aspirin?”
Ashley’s eyes widen, then narrow. “No. I had a headache.”
“So completely normal you is asking me if I want to go out on a Thursday?”
“Fine. Forget it.” She turns around.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I tug on her hair, feeling guilty that I’m not willing to risk my dad’s anger to make her happy.
“There’s nothing to talk about, obviously, since you haven’t called me lately.”
The truth of her words hits me. She’s right, I haven’t called her. I haven’t even thought about it, and that’s the worst part. I let my hand fall from her hair in shock, realizing how absolutely low I’ve sunk into my web of lies. I can’t even remember to be there for my best friend when she has a breakdown. Shit. So how do I say “Sorry, Ash, I forgot to call you and check on you because I’ve been hanging out with a Bigfoot and a wild boy”? I don’t. That’s the center of my problems. I have no excuse because no one can know about the real one. “Ash, I’m sorry. I didn’t think . . . I just didn’t think. Stuff’s been going on at home—”
“Like what?”
Don’t lie. She can tell. “Mom and Dad have been acting weird, and Dad yelled at me in front of Ben and his dad . . . the usual.”
“Weird how?”
So we’re not dropping this conversation. “Mom wanted me to take her to the woods, to Dad’s deer blind.”
Ashley whirls around, ignoring the bell and the rise of students around us. “What? Why would she want to do that?” she says, alarmed.
“She just wanted to see it. I don’t really know why.”
Ashley stares through me, until we are the last ones in the classroom. At least her anger at me has faded, though.
“Come on, time for lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her voice drops.
“Well, don’t eat, just sit with me.”
“I think I’m going to lie down in the nurse’s office. My headache’s back.”
“Are you sure?” I grab her arm, not believing her.
“I’ll see you this afternoon.” She twists out of my grasp, gathers her things, and walks away.
Suddenly I’m not hungry either. I pass the cafeteria and head toward the library. I have questions that need answers.
Our only computer at home is in Dad’s office, so there’s no way I can search there for what I want to know. I enter my student ID, then google “missing persons.” I don’t type Zavalla, specifically, because I know what will show up. It will show up inevitably, I know, because they were missing for days before their bodies were found, but I’d like a few minutes before their faces appear.
Very few children are listed in the various articles that appear, and even fewer boys. I narrow it down by age; the boy can’t be older than twenty or so. As expected, two familiar names pop up, and I skim right past them. But I’m left with nothing that helps. Dead end there.
I type in “Bigfoot.” The results are endless. Pictures, videos, articles—I could sit here for days combing through the evidence, fakes, and theories. Undiscovered primate, wild humans, cavemen that survive in secret, aliens, descendants of Cain, and the list goes on and on, each theory more wild than the last. They can communicate telepathically, use mind control, make themselves invisible, teleport, have been seen many times surrounded by lights in the sky like alien reports.
It’s just too much. All I can gather from all of this is that no one really knows what they are, and any time someone claims to have a body, it disappears, or it’s proven to be a hoax. Hair samples are really from bears or contaminated with human DNA. The government knows, the military knows, and everything is covered up. Logging companies have contracts that specifically state that they are not allowed to mention Bigfoot or Sasquatch to anyone if they see them. You can find a footprint but not the animal that made it. Cell phone pictures and videos are distant and grainy at best or cut off too soon or catch the image too late.
But there are hundreds of eyewitness accounts. Thousands. So I am not alone, but after my encounter with Baby Bigfoot, I think I might be unique.
“Is Leah Roberts in here?”
I close out of the computer so fast my hands are shaking by the time Ben walks over to the computer tables. “Hey, Ben.”
“Hey.” He pulls out the chair next to me and sits, his knees on either side of mine. “I missed you at lunch. Where’s Ashley?”
“Headache. She’s in the nurse’s office.”
“What are you doing?” He peers at the screen, a suspicious edge to his voice.
“Nothing much,” I say, trying not to sound defensive. “Just research for homework. The home computer’s not always free.”
Ben nods, accepting my answer. “I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“There’s this thing, Saturday night? I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”
“You mean, like a date?”
“Yes, like a date.” He reaches for my hand, sending warmth streaking through my body. His eyes hold mine, and once again I’m reminded that this is what I’ve wanted.
“What’s the thing?”
“Another party, same crowd.”
“I don’t know if Dad will go for that.”
“He won’t be home, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not sure what bothers me more, that you’re encouraging me to sneak out again or that you somehow know my parents’ schedule before me.”
“Dad said they’ve got plans that night. That’s all I know.”
“Well, if it’s true, then I guess I can come. I’m sure Matt will want to go.”
“Can I come pick you up?”
“That’s a little pointless, don’t you think? Matt can drive us there.”
“It’s not a problem. I want to.” His hand slides up my arm, scattering my thoughts like a cue ball break shot on a pool table. But beneath the rush of feelings and warmth, there is a tiny thread of doubt. What does he want? I’ve always been in front of Ben, so why is he just now seeing me? This is almost too perfect to be real.
“Okay,” I say, suppressing the hesitation because I’m interested to see where this is going.
“Great.” He stands, pulling me up with him. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”
“I think you’re acting like my boyfriend.”
“I’m not acting.”
“So what is this, then?”
“This”—Ben reaches down for my books—“is you and me. Us.”
My brain is spinning, and I’m afraid I might say something stupid next. “What if I don’t want us?” Too late.
Ben’s smile turns mischievous and he drops our books on the table. He slides one arm around my waist, and the other takes my hand, like we’re about to waltz, then pulls it down and tucks it behind my back. “I think you do, Leah Roberts.”
“You seem to know everything.”
“I know a lot about you. More than you think.” He grins.
“Like what?” Again, the uncertainty blooms out of the mist of warmth spinning in my mind.
Ben hesitates, and I know whatever he’s about to say, it’s not what he’s meaning. “That you’re going close your eyes in three seconds, and then smile in seven.”
I’m too distracted by what he’s not telling me to notice that he’s pulling my face toward his. “Are you about to kiss me?”
“Um, I was?”
“You’re not sure?”
“I am sure. Are you?” he asks, our noses nearly touc
hing.
“I don’t—”
His lips silence mine. My body floods with sensation, but it’s more about being kissed than who is kissing me. Of all the times I’d imagined what this moment with Ben Hanson would be like, I never thought it would feel this . . . disillusioning.
After a few moments he pulls away, eyes warm as he runs a hand down my cheek, and I smile, because it’s the only response he needs, and the only one I can manage.
“Ben kissed me in the library.”
Ashley sits up so fast she nearly smacks me in the face. “Ohmygodareyoukiddingme?”
The nurse looks up from her desk with a frown.
“I’d be happy to give you details, unless you still have a headache?”
“I’m feeling better, Ms. Helen, I’ll go back to class now!” Ashley hops off the bed, grabs her stuff, and literally drags me out of the office. “Spill. Now. Don’t leave out a single detail. I demand it.” She pulls me into an alcove and corners me.
“It’s really your fault it happened.”
“I’m so sorry I enabled the moment we’ve been dreaming of. You can buy me a thank-you gift later. Talk.”
“He asked me out to a party Saturday night, said he’s picking me up, and that’s about it.”
“Sure. That’s it. Except for the kiss!”
“I told him he’s acting like my boyfriend, and he said he’s not acting.” Ashley grabs my arms and sucks in a breath. “I told him I might not want him for a boyfriend, and then he kissed me.”
“How was it?” She squeals quietly.
“Nice,” I say, feeling like there’s more to Ben’s interest in me than simple chemistry. But maybe I’m just being skeptical. Maybe it’s all the years of being seen as a Roberts that has me uneasy about this.
“Nice? It’s Ben Hanson; it sure as hell shoulda been better than nice.”
It was nice. Perfect, as far as first kisses go. And as I tell Ashley everything I know she wants to hear, I try to remind myself that Ben is the guy, and he wants me. Just like I’ve always wanted. Maybe I should let the wariness go and just be happy, for once, that this is something I don’t have to hide or lie about.
Except I’m not sure it’s a place I truly want to be.
chapter fifteen
I’ve managed to beg out of going to Matt’s football game today, claiming homework, but I’m really just not in the mood to sit for four hours in a crowd. Oddly enough, Mom and Dad both seem okay with the idea. Just the usual reminder from Dad about staying in the house, and don’t you dare go into the woods just because Mom bent the rule and let me get leaves a few days ago.
I’m betting Mom didn’t tell him about our adventure in the forest. Once we got home, she never said a word to me about it. Not the fallen tree or the wood knocks, almost like breaking Dad’s rules was nothing to her and shouldn’t be to me either. I’m still not over the fact that she had a gun. And Dad bought her lie of bad meat in the meat loaf that made us sick as easily as he buys mine. I guess that’s where I get the gift.
I toss my history book on my bed and grab a pen from my desk. A flash of color outside catches my eye.
There’s another apple sitting on my windowsill.
It takes only a few more seconds to see the shape melded with the upper reaches of the magnolia tree outside.
The boy’s eyes glow in the late-afternoon sun as he watches me.
The car doors slam and his gaze follows Mom and Dad down the driveway before flashing back to me.
I hesitate. I shouldn’t do this. I should want to be a normal girl with normal problems. I should be in that car going to watch my brother and sort-of boyfriend play. I shouldn’t be hoping that a wild boy from the woods might magically appear in front of my window, just like I knew he would.
But life hasn’t been normal in years.
I grab my hoodie off the back of my chair and he moves, swinging out of the branches like a primate.
When I fling the kitchen door open, he’s standing there waiting for me, a single white flower in his hand. I stare, struck by the familiarity as a memory surfaces, of another boy, and another flower, over a decade ago. “Thank you.” I take the delicate stem, absorbing the shock when our fingers brush. Light plays across his bare skin and makes his long brown hair glimmer. When he tilts his head, windswept strands fall across his face. My fingers flex at the thought of touching them, but that would require bravery. Standing here gaping is about all I’m good for at the moment. And there is so much to look at. He has like zero percent body fat. None. Flames race up my neck and cheeks, and his eyes narrow inquisitively.
Come on, you can do this. I step out carefully and close the door behind me. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replies, and the ease with which he does leaves me smiling.
“Co—come?” He gestures to the trees.
“Come with you?”
The boy nods, long strands of hair falling across his face. His smile is soft, and when he holds out his hand, I don’t hesitate. Our fingers slide together, and his hand is warm as it envelops mine, like an extension of my own. Again, I’m reminded of the puzzle he fits; if only I had the rest of the pieces.
When he tugs, I go, without a second thought for anything I’m leaving behind, and we don’t stop running until we reach the shelter of the forest. He leads me down the trail and deeper into the trees, where the birds call and deer scatter, and the only human sound is that of our breath and beating hearts. I’m not afraid of him, or of anything, here beneath the trees. But maybe I should be afraid for myself.
Because the thought of him letting go of my hand is enough to send waves of fear coursing through my body. So much so that I thread my fingers through his, and he tightens his grip on mine. The walls are falling down around me, pushing me closer to the human embodiment of everything I love about the forest. Leah is gone, and in her place is a girl walking with a boy who feels like home, the way it was before everything fell apart.
The sensation of a hungry blue jay among a flock of butterflies is swirling around in my chest. My body is shaking, and beads of sweat are forming along my neck and face. It feels like the flu but I’m afraid it’s something much, much worse. Our shoulders brush, pinning our hands between our hips for a moment, and my heart drops. My arm burns from the contact, and all I want is more. My entire world revolves around our linked hands. I am exquisitely aware of every point of contact between us, every inch of his skin touching mine. My mind is consumed by it.
The boy pulls me deeper into our world, until the forest becomes clear of the thick underbrush. Ferns cover the ground between the tall pines, in their last days of life before the cold sets in.
When the knock sounds from only yards away, I jerk to a stop, unintentionally pulling my hand from his. Baby Bigfoot’s face is peeking out from behind a tree, so still she could be a statue, just another part of the forest. Even from here, I can see her large eyes watching us. The boy walks back to me, a smile playing at his lips as he reaches for my hand. The fading sunlight catches his eyes, setting them alight with glowing flecks of golden amber scattered across the deep emerald shade. “S . . . safe.”
“What?” I whisper.
His gaze is amused, but a determined focus is still there. “You—are . . . safe.” He pulls our linked hands up and presses them to his chest.
“I believe you.”
His smile fades and his eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my heart do somersaults. The boy nods slowly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from my face once again. His fingers lightly graze my skin, tracing a path along my cheek and into my hair, running down the back of my ear before dropping away.
My entire body feels like it’s wired for sound, and the slightest spark could make me come undone. When my brain recovers from the contact, I get the feeling the action is more about touching me than moving the hair.
“Okay, let’s go.” We walk hand in hand to meet her. As we get closer, she lifts her face and sniffs the air, slowly c
oming out from behind the tree. I wrap my hand around a bicep that could easily be steel instead of muscle, closing the narrow distance between our bodies. A sense of the surreal creeps over me as I watch him lift his hand to touch her outstretched one. She shuffles closer, her gaze wary, as if I’m the thing to be feared, and not her.
I hold out my hand, just like he did, and after a moment’s hesitation she touches it. I can’t stop the smile that splits my face, and she attempts to copy me, baring her teeth. I laugh as she huffs with excitement, overcome with something close to joy. It’s been so long since I’ve felt it, and a sudden wave of emotion hits me, leaving tears in my eyes. I brush them away, and she watches intently.
The boy steps out of the way and eases his hand from mine when Baby Bigfoot starts to circle me, inspecting my clothes and sniffing my hair. This time I know what to expect, so her explorations aren’t as unnerving. She pulls the apple from my hand and eats it without hesitation. When she’s done, she steps back and looks at him, something unspoken passing between them.
“Now what?” I ask.
“F—fun.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘fun’?”
The boy nods, and all I can think is that whatever happens next, no one will ever believe me.
chapter sixteen
“You’re joking, right?” Two pairs of eyes whip my way, and the boy places a finger over his lips. Baby Bigfoot gives me a frown. “This is such a bad idea.” That announcement earns a sigh from the giant creature next to me.
“You do see all the guns lying around, right?” A massive furry hand drapes itself across my face, pressing against my mouth. “Mmno.” I pull her hand away, rubbing my sleeve over my lips. “When was the last time you washed your hands? Like ever?” I hiss.
We all three duck behind a fallen tree when the hunters in the clearing glance around. We are likely going to die out here, and I try not to think about the irony of it. Two men, both middle-aged, have set up a hunting camp. Two small tents sit near a dying fire, and they busy themselves with cleaning up their supper. They lock all their cooking supplies in the back of a pickup with two shiny new Yeti coolers sitting in the back of the bed. Again, more irony.
The Shadows We Know by Heart Page 11
